Gloves
by Yuko Hakubi
Summary: Inspired by my friend's love for unusual pairings and utter hatred of MarySues. Thanks, phiremangtson! Chou has one obstacle in his path of claiming someone's heart. The wife! Feedback is greatly appreciated, but flames are not!


Gloves

By Hakubi

Desire…

It had utterly consumed him, and screamed to throw Saitou down on the floor, and ravish him like there was no tomorrow. As though the sun would not rise on him the next morning. But he couldn't give in. He refused to hurt another woman like he had hurt Yumi. The look of utter shock on her face, the silent accusations falling from her lips when she had caught him in the throes of passion with Lord Shishio…

That look had been too much for him to bear. Even though she wasn't really his sister, she had raised him, and he owed her. But she had known of his feelings for Lord Shishio; the conniving bitch had let him see them, right at the height of ecstasy. So he had paid her back, when he'd learned how much she had truly come to love him.

If only she would have left Lord Shishio be, she needn't have died. Women were such stupid creatures.

Really.

But Miss Tokio, she was so different. She was so sweet, supposedly, and had never shown him anything but kindness. He had never seen her, but that was no reason to utterly destroy her marriage, or to break her family into eight pieces, as Yumi had often threatened to do to him.

So why should he fall for her husband?

He twirled the gray fountain pen in his fingers, staring idly at the blurred motion it made. A pen, that Tokio had sent him, oddly enough, for his twenty-fifth birthday. He had not the faintest clue how she had discovered his birth date, only that she somehow knew what it was. She had this strange knack of knowing the most obscure little things, according to her husband.

How would the poor woman feel if she knew that he loved the same man she did?

He slammed the hand bound book in the drawer of his desk. It was a self-defense mechanism that he had developed for whenever he felt the looming presence of Saitou's ki. The pen went in another drawer, next to a pair of pristine white gloves that he had pilfered from Saitou's locker only the week before.

"Broomhead, get moving."

The hell? What was he missing? He stared dumbly at the older officer.

"I said, get moving, baka. Or did you develop a hearing problem in the last few seconds?"

Chou suppressed the shudder that was working its way up his spine from the close proximity.

No! Get away, you cold, sexy bastard, before I kiss you!

Saitou slammed his hands down on the desk. "What did I just say, Broomhead?"

Get away! GET AWAY!

He could smell cigarettes. He hated the smell of tobacco, and yet he loved Saitou. Ugh. Love-hate relationships were so trying. Especially for broom-headed sword-hunters-turned-cop-for-the-government.

He suddenly noticed that Saitou's hands were bare.

Aw…dammit! Chou had just had to have been misfortunate enough to have pilfered the officer's only pair of gloves, hadn't he? Well…maybe not. There was a pair tucked in the back pocket of his trousers, with one of the fingers waving hello as the man moved. He was almost tempted to grave them and sneak in a free grope.

"Broomhead, get up." He said for the third time.

Chou seemed quite preoccupied with the waving fingers of the gloves. Saitou slammed his cap down on the desk, and then shoved it sideways so that it stopped just short of the wall. His bare fingers latched firmly onto the bright red fabric of Chou's coat, and then he was pushed up against the back wall of the office. His booted feet dangled a good foot above the ground, and he bore a strong resemblance to a man on trial.

Don't kill me for this.

Despite his position, and despite the fact that he was surely going to lose his head in a few moments, Chou leaned forward. He regretted moving from the instant that his lips met with those of Saitou Hajime. Both men fell to the floor in a clatter of bodies and swords. Chou remained frozen, savoring and hating every second that he could taste tobacco in his mouth.

After what seemed like forever, Saitou pushed him away, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, while the other man discovered the grain of the wooden floor.

"Took you long enough, didn't it Broomhead?"

What the fuck?

"Pick up your jaw long enough to answer me, baka."

"But I…but you, but---what about Miss Tokio?" Chou blinked.

Saitou shook his head, and what he said next was in English. "Tokio doesn't exist. Idiot."

Say it again, in idiot speak, please?

"Tokio isn't real." He repeated, in their native tongue this time. "All those obscure little things I found out about you."

Were things that you found out yourself.

"So why the hell have you been beatin' around the bush for the past year? I thought you hated shit like that?" He blinked again.

"To see how far you would follow."

"Oh…I get it. You were just skeert ta confess ta lil' ol' sexy me." Chou draped his arms around the other man's shoulders.

"Keep dreaming."

"Does that mean I get to grope you whenever I want?"

"Definitely not." Saitou stepped out of Chou's embrace before he could be kissed. "For future reference, Broomhead, if you're going to pilfer a pair of my gloves as a trophy, be just a bit more covert about it."

Chou's jaw was laying on the ground again, he was sure of it.


End file.
